Friday, September 30, 2005

James Dean still makes five million dollars a year.

I’m having a hard time adjusting to my new work schedule. I went to buy photo paper today, and the stuff I use is impossible to find since the company is having trouble staying alive in this increasingly digital world. I need to get all those pictures together for Amy and Paul. I made a couple of prints I’m actually happy about. I was watching the Ric Ocasek show on the live stream from the club, and forgot to bid on this really neat underwater camera I saw on eBay. Someone told me they just did the last of their drugs, forever. Nobody likes telling a friend about another friend’s death. It’d be worse if you didn’t tell. It’s cold at night now, and I have not yet dug out a blanket. I need to call Rory back. It’s been about 12 years since I’ve called. Her number hasn't changed.


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